Lie Through Your Wolfteeth
by atomicpen
Summary: It was supposed to be a straightforward task-find the supersoft, save his brother, get back to normalcy. But nothing ever turns out the way that it is supposed to, least of all when princesses are involved.
1. Chapter 1

Chapter One

All his life, people misjudged him.

They called him dim-witted as a child, too angry as a young man, then whispered behind his back, where they thought he couldn't hear, of thickheadedness thereafter. Only fit to do the dirty work of back alley brawls and thievery. With a wide, iron jaw, pointed ears that _yes, did help him hear better_, and two bottom cuspids sharp enough that he cut his tongue on them as he grew, he seemed more feral than man to most—and they had no problems telling him so. Born to a single mother, he took much more after the father he never knew-though due to death or abandonment or some other reason, his mother never did tell. His mother had affectionately called the cuspids his wolfteeth, making him wonder often about his father. He could still feel the scars along the sides of his tongue whenever he spoke. Over the years, he'd learned to do plenty with that tongue-how to get himself into and out of trouble; how to change his accent, and eventually, his language when he wanted; how to make a woman squirm and shudder. Most of those hadn't come until he was older, until after he'd found his mother's body, the smile still splitting her face from chasing her final dreamwine fantasy.

Not that anyone ever asked Marcus about his past, and he was content to let it stay buried with that worn velour chair of hers he broke apart and burned years ago.

He should have guessed she'd be the one to break that unspoken custom.

She started on the cable car from Summit Station to its sister Alexandria one. The Alexandrian princess took the seat parallel to him, across a small aisle in the pulley car and he could tell she was curious about him. She had been since they made their limping escape from Alexandria castle those few months ago. She was his younger by a few years, but held herself as much older-especially now, since he had last seen her on the Prima Vista.

She also felt guilty; he watched the constant slow entwining and unfolding of her fingers. He knew she felt it was her fault, what happened to Blank, and he supposed some of it was. Mostly though, it was her goddamn knight's fault-that and the poor aim of that little black mage kid. Had the knight not been involved or the kid a better shot with his fire spells, Tantalus would have made no waves when they finished 'I Want to Be Your Canary' and left for Lindblum. Would have left none the wiser until long after they were gone.

Marcus frowned a bit. None of that had happened and now Blank was petrified in that damn forest. He shifted his head just slightly to glare at the Pluto Knight Captain sitting in the set of seats just up from his princess. Fool of a man didn't know when to keep his mouth shut or when to play a part. Marcus's gaze slid over to the princess herself, who really didn't look like a princess at all anymore. She wore plain orange overalls and a white tunic and bodice that didn't call undue attention. Marcus probably stood out more himself with the pair of tattoo lines running down his arms-which he also caught her staring at, more than once.

Let her stare—he hadn't decided if he cared enough to be more than politely ambivalent toward her after hearing she ditched Zidane the first chance she got in Lindblum. But, princess knew how to play a part, that was for sure. If he was being honest, she was far better than Ruby-but he knew better than to say that out loud. Yet, for all the trouble she and hers had caused, Marcus couldn't quite banish the memory of how she felt when she fell into his arms as the improvised 'Cornelia'.

"Marcus?" she said suddenly, breaking his thoughts, her eyes on him. He lifted his chin to look at her directly. "Um... If I might ask-" She lowered her eyes, then raised them to him again. "I mean, your tattoos."

A dark eyebrow lifted beneath his red bandana. "What about them?" All at once, as he answered her, his voice sounded too deep to his ears. Too grated and rumbling. His shoulders felt too broad and his chest too wide; he imagined her slim form would get lost in them.

She blushed and wavered that line between confident and not knowing quite what to say. Finally, she gave in. "What's the story behind them?"

A wry smile twisted the corner of his mouth. The lie came easily. "Nothing special, trust me." He shrugged to her skeptical look, shoulders rolling beneath his sleeveless tunic. Her eyes followed. "I liked the design, so I got them."

"Did it hurt?"

The loyalty in him growled not to answer her, to let her think what she would—she did drop Zidane as soon as he got her to Lindblum, after all. Soon as he stopped being useful to her. Why give her more, that growl argued, when you're just another tool for her? He pushed the thought away—he never let his knee-jerk reactions throw their weight around for long—and drew in a breath through his nose. He smelled mint tinged with something sweet he didn't recognize. She wasn't using them, he told himself, she was only trying to do what she thought would help. Zidane was part of his Tantalus family, yes, but he was also a fool. Marcus had lost count years ago how many times he wanted to cuff the tow-headed thief upside the head for the unnecessary situations he'd tangle around himself.

There was no harm in talking with her, after all. It was just conversation.

"Well, someone taps a needle that's been dipped in ink into your skin for a couple of hours. Honestly, I stopped feeling after the first," he added, at her wince. Not that she seemed squeamish, but Marcus didn't like the idea of making any woman uncomfortable. What he told her was mostly the truth, besides, until the tattooist got to his hands and knuckles. He waited for the inevitable, 'Why would anyone want to sit through pain like that?', but it never came, and that surprised him. She seemed to accept his answer, and fell into silent thought. It was just as well, he decided, and looked away.

Her knight, Steiner, watched him—a leashed hunting dog straining to be loosed on prey. Regardless that he had done nothing to harm, endanger, or even insult the princess, Marcus knew Steiner viewed his very presence as a threat. He ignored the Pluto Captain. Let him think or suspect what he wanted—Marcus' main concern right now was getting to Treno and the supersoft, and then getting to Blank. He had no time for inquisitive princesses sitting on a tram with him, nor for assuaging the unfounded fears of her keeper.

A few minutes later, she spoke again, when Marcus had his eyes focused out the window at the scrolling mountainside.

"I—I'm really sorry about your friend. Your... bro." He dragged his eyes from the window only to find she had cast hers down to her lap and fiddling fingers.

A thousand things ran through Marcus's head, from bitter accusations to softened reassurances. "Blank knew there'd be danger. And I'm pretty sure this stuff will cure him, once we find it. He didn't go in blind-sighted." _Like Zidane_, he wanted to add, but held his tongue.

She looked up at him, her eyes meeting his, and he was struck by how warm of an amber they really were. It was no wonder Zidane was enthralled by her so quickly—but then, Zidane was enthralled by most pretty girls quickly. Still, Marcus found the next thought that had been in his mind was fled. _Don't be a fool_, he told himself, and wet his lips as her face softened.

"I guess..." she began, subdued, but then a light flared within her eyes, an august thread braiding through her voice and into the bones of her jaw. "However, it still doesn't make it right. I will do everything I can to help."

"While I appreciate the sentiment," he intoned intentionally, leaning back into the seat to rest one arm across the top of it, "no thanks. We'll be fine on our own." He doubted a princess and a loud knight with too many scruples could be much help in a thieving endeavor.

The corners of her mouth tightened at the clip of his voice, the way his chest rebuffed her offer. "Well, I will try, regardless. I'm certainly not useless in a conflict now, you should know, if that is what you're worried about."

Marcus turned his jawline to her, eyes out the window again. "You can do what you want, Princess. You will, anyway. But you should be careful with your involvement in certain operations while in Treno."

Steiner was halfway out of his seat in anger. "Did you just threaten the Princess, you brigand?"

Marcus laughed once, softly, wolfteeth smooth against the inside curve of his lip. "Don't be a fool. I'm just warning her to be mindful of her reputation. Treno isn't called 'the Dark City' for irony's sake."

Dagger put a quiet hand on Steiner's arm and he settled back into his seat, though his eyes never left Marcus.

"You know, for someone of your... ah, skill-set and background," she began, "you certainly are well-mannered and well-spoken."

Marcus snorted. "What, did you think all Tantalus was made up of ruffians and idiots? I know you spent a lot of time around Zidane, but don't let him color your opinion of the rest of us." Why should he care so much about what she thought of him?

Before she could interject, before he could check that old knee-jerk defense from throwing its weight around, the words came tumbling from his mouth. "Besides, I _have_ performed in prominent plays, you know. I've acted in Treno more than a couple of times—in lead roles. And you've got to understand the part if you want to give the character justice."

She didn't have to know those high-profile performances in Treno were covers for some of the most profitable operations Tantalus pulled off. Nor did he have to mention to her all the older plays deemed too archaic in speech to perform he had devoured time and again in his free time simply because he loved the flow of the language so much. He didn't have to tell her he hated the idea of being just more muscle with no brain to back it up. He regretted saying anything at all the moment he finished speaking, but he could do nothing about it now. He stared holes into the seat in front of him, irritated at himself that she had started to worm beneath his skin so quickly.

Out of his peripheral, he saw her study him intently, curiously.

"You really aren't what you seem, are you?" she asked quietly after a long moment.

Marcus hesitated, and never got the chance to reply as the cable car came to a jolting stop, nearly throwing them from their seats.

"What's going on?" Steiner demanded, jumping out of his seat in tandem with Marcus and Dagger.

She slid her lithe frame past him and ran the few steps to the car conductor.

"What happened?" she asked.

"Probably just an obstruction—please return to your seat while I remove it and get us moving again," The conductor instructed her. She didn't move as he went outside—something didn't feel right to Marcus and he remained standing as well. They weren't waiting long before the conductor came running back inside the car, eyes wide and short of breath.

"Are you all right?" Dagger instantly asked, her hand straying for the long racket leaning in the weapons' compartment next to the conductor's chair.

"I—I don't know!" the conductor stammered. "There's something on the tracks!"

Dagger exchanged a look with Steiner before giving him a nod that held an entire conversation within it. They spared Marcus no such glance, but he was already moving toward the door—neither he nor Steiner had stored their weapons in the compartment and so did not need to pause to retrieve them. The Pluto Captain pushed in front of him to be the first out—couldn't let his precious princess endanger herself and couldn't trust the brigand—with the two of them close behind. Once out of the cable car, only a mild breeze greeted them and disturbed the air. Dagger jogged ahead of them, rounded to the front of the car first.

Looking around with his hand resting on the pommel of his sword, Marcus saw nothing but rocky, scrubby slopes. He fell in behind Steiner. A sudden swift wind howled along the length of the stopped car, and Marcus breathed deep as it blew against his face; he twisted around, looking to the front of the car where Dagger had gone, his sharp nose sifting out something very strange on the wind.

"Over here!" Dagger shouted right after he caught the scent. Steiner surged into clanking motion only a few steps behind the Tantalus rogue.

Drawing his wide falcata sword and rounding the front of the car, Marcus sucked in a breath when he saw what Dagger faced.

"Sonuvabitch of a black mage," he swore under his breath. Around the cool grip of his sword, his fingers tightened until they hurt. The thing before them was unlike any other black mage Marcus had ever seen—tall and slim, with gleaming eyes as bright as the sun that twisted a rope of fear taught through his gut.

"Princess!" Steiner called, sword drawn and next to Marcus.

"Steiner—I think this is the same one we saw on the cargo ship," Dagger told him, long racket in her hands.

Marcus's eyes flashed to Steiner, who looked from Dagger to the black mage. "Yes, I think you're right. But I thought it had been destroyed...?"

Giving the mage a second look, Marcus saw beyond his terrified impression—something was wrong with it. It shuddered and the impressive wings that spread out behind it were bent at odd angles, missing feathers in several places. Dagger shouted at it, her fingers angry and white around her racket.

"Tell me something! Why do you want to capture me?"

Steiner ran up to her, though Marcus hung back a few breaths before following in his wake. "Princess!" The knight put himself between Dagger and the black mage. "It's too dangerous—please stand back!"

A sporadic tremor went through the black mage and it sparked. "Mission... retrieve... princess... alive..." was all it seemed able to repeat. Determined, Dagger pushed around Steiner.

"Why? What do you want with me? Who sent you on this mission?" Marcus could see Dagger's hands shaking, and his fingers flexed along the hilt of his sword.

"I don't think you'll get much more of an answer—it doesn't understand what you're asking," he told her, another arc of electricity running between the mage's wings.

"Mission... retrieve..." it said again, lurching toward them.

"But—" Dagger began to protest, but a shrill noise cut through the air and stopped her words short as Marcus gritted his teeth against the sound.

"Eliminate... all!" it shrieked at them, its voice closer to metal scraping harsh against metal than any human sound.

Marcus knew Steiner was a decent enough fighter; the bulk of the military force in Alexandria may have been made up of women, but that didn't make Steiner, the Captain of the Knights of Pluto, take his job any less seriously just because he was in the minority. The knight darted in front of Dagger with a speed and grace Marcus wished he exhibited outside of battle to swing a heavy-handed blow, effectively interrupting the broken mage's charge. It reeled back, throwing off sparks in the face of Steiner's glare.

"Stand back, Princess!" he yelled over his shoulder. "The knave and I shall handle this fiend!"

Marcus didn't take his eyes from the mage as he moved forward, joining Steiner to flank Dagger protectively a step behind them both. "Perhaps don't insult me at the same time you want my help," he grated, absently correcting his stance and reversing the grip on his falcata. Adrenaline flooded through him, and scattered the fear that had threatened to fill him up. Steiner's broadsword took a chunk out of the mage's side with another cleaving swing, giving Marcus an opportunity while it recovered to lunge forward. He swept his blade up, knocking it even more off balance as the thick, deft fingers of his off-hand found a cool, thin metal rod hanging off the heavy belt that it wore.

Marcus leapt nimbly out of the reach of a blow from the mage's stave, flanking Dagger once more and slipping the rod through the back of his belt to look over later. Allowing himself a moment to slide his eyes over to her, he said, "But, in this instance, I think I might have to agree with your knight. Too risky for you to get hurt." From the corner of his eye, he saw the malfunctioning black mage as it reeled from one of Steiner's attacks. Man didn't fool around in battle—Marcus could appreciate that.

She cast him a quirking grin, in on some secret of which he was unaware. Her long racket swung over her head and Marcus felt a thin, tingling layer settle over him. He cast a glance back to her.

"A mage, huh?" he remarked, feeling as though he should have known somehow. He saw the shift of surprise change her face too late while his attention was diverted from the battle.

"Watch out!" Dagger shouted to no avail as he was caught by a charging attack from the black mage.

He whirled but couldn't dodge the blow, so instead continued to turn and take the brunt of the onslaught with his shoulder. The force of it nearly knocked him off his feet, and Marcus swallowed the gratitude it had only been from a stave and not a blade.

"Are you all right?" Dagger asked, a hitch catching her voice with worry.

He grimaced and straightened, rolling his shoulder and shaking the pain off while Steiner parried the black mage into distraction. "Just a bruise," he told her, retaking his stance and turning his eyes back to the fight, hoping that wasn't a lie. Time enough after to sort it out.

Along his peripheral, he saw a silvery light encompass Steiner, who made no motion save a nod of thanks to Dagger. _She certainly was telling the truth about her abilities._

The black mage fumbled over its own robes and Marcus took the opening to barrel into the mage with his good shoulder, flipping his grip on the falcata to thrust down and into the sparking torso. A jolt went through his fingertips and up his arm. Pulling back on his sword, he quickly found there was no prying it free.

"Damn it!" he cursed, the sharp bridge of his nose furrowing. He tried to lever the blade loose, but only succeeded in raising another volt that danced up his arm, raising the hairs along his skin. The black mage tried to shove him aside, and Marcus leaned into it on instinct; it couldn't gain any more ground against his bulk. Marcus threw an edged look back at Steiner. "Hit it now! It's stuck on my sword and I won't be able to hold it for long!"

The knight hesitated just a moment, and Marcus snarled at him, a third arc of electricity snaking beneath his skin. If that damn knight didn't move soon and those shocks kept getting stronger, he'd be worse off than a rod in a storm. Better hold out as long as he could. Teeth ground tight enough to make his head hurt and imaging his boots grew roots that clutched into the clay and rock, Marcus pressed his weight into twisting his falcata deeper into the failing machinery. The mage beneath him bucked and let out a piercing metallic shriek; through the flashing barbs arcing again from nerve to nerve in his arms, Marcus wondered if it felt pain as he did, or if its various gears and cogs were just malfunctioning beyond repair now.

"Dammit, knight, now!" he snarled through his teeth.

Steiner, whether having heard him or not, burst forward at what felt to Marcus was the last viable moment before his fingers refused to keep hold of his sword. The knight ran out beyond the edge of his line of sight, and Marcus hoped he was taking the opportunity to flank the incapacitated mage. Distantly, the blood-iron smell of the air after a lightning strike coiled through his nose, followed by a sickly sweet burning that he had to fight from turning his stomach. Acutely aware of every bone and tiny fracture and taught ligament in his hands and forearms, Marcus blinked away purple and black spots from his eyes. He couldn't let go. He had to hold on.

"Just... a little..." he gasped to the burning suns where the black mage's eyes should have been. They bore a hole into his head and blackened his vision like a sunspot.

He heard Dagger shout something from far away, and he couldn't quite find the strength he needed to strain for the words. His hands started to slacken, but a hot warning went off in his memory and he grasped for the hilt again. Small charges of electricity spiderwebbed up his arms, following, Marcus decided, the lines of his tattoos. Hold on, those burning words told him. Hold on. Marcus clenched his jaw and willed his fingers to obey.

_Let go!_

Eyes closed tightly against the shaking and flashes of light before him, a guttural sound vibrated his throat. No—he had to hold on. He couldn't let go, tried to remember why.

_Let go, Marcus!_

"... can't..."

A cool hand slid like pouring water onto his shoulder, far too hot in comparison, stilling everything in his world after so many tremors. Muscles there twitched of their own accord beneath her fingers.

"Marcus." Dagger's voice drifted like sweet smoke through a pipe. Did he make a noise in response? "I need you to let go of your sword. I can't heal you until you do." Her voice was soft and light as gossamer in his ears. "Can you do that for me?"

Slowly, like prying open a clam shell, Marcus's eyes opened, focused on the arms, the hands clenched around the hilt of a falcata for an instant before he remembered they were his. His head cleared and his vision stopped shaking. Dark root-like markings snaked up his forearms and covered his hands, made something in his gut drop. Throat feeling burned and raw, Marcus tried to swallow and withdrew his hands, watching them shake with a vibration from outside his body, his palms tingling with a strange hum across the rough skin. Before him, he saw the still-sparking remains of the black mage fall to the ground with his falcata impaled on it, and he distantly realized he'd been the only thing holding it up.

"Okay, good," Dagger said, slipping her hand off his shoulder to come around between him and the black mage. She looked at his face a moment, then down at his arms, touching his knuckles. "You're going to be okay," was all she said, then closed her eyes and moved her other hand to match the first now hovering close to his skin.

"What were you thinking, holding on like that?" Steiner scolded from somewhere behind him. "You could have been killed or—"

"Steiner!" Dagger snapped, small wrinkles creasing at the top of her nose. "I need to concentrate, please. He's badly hurt."

The knight fell silent. Dagger drew in a smooth breath, and Marcus could almost see her will her mind into quiet. When she exhaled softly, a cool green light spread from beneath her fingertips onto his arms. He felt the coolness wind up his muscles like a ribbon, wrapping behind his eyes and tasting almost of mint on his tongue. His head felt right again as the cool tendrils retracted back down to his arms. The burnt scars left there from several arcs of shock faded from the top first, and he watched in fascination. It was as if a weed had taken root beneath his skin and she was now drawing it up and out. The heat twined with the scars was pulled away along with the rest as she worked, and Marcus's heart roared in his chest like a bear in a cage.

When she got to his wrists, it looked as if the roots tangled with one another, catching on his veins and bones and refusing to let go. The heat built up again; beads of sweat dotted his temple. Shallow lines across her brow deepened and she paused to scrape her teeth along her lip before taking both his wrists in her hands.

The light brightened and the green press of her fingers soothed his skin for as far around as they could wrap, unable to encompass the whole of his wristbones. The heat flared, fighting against the cool. Marcus briefly clenched his jaw and held himself still.

He could not say how long they sat, he with his spine curved and stiffening, she bent with her hair falling over her shoulder, nearly brushing their hands. Steiner shifted around in his armor behind Marcus, but the sounds were distant, unimportant.

In tandem with a sharp hiss of breath through his wolfteeth, Dagger sat up, moving her hands away and drawing the last of the roots and heat out of his skin. The green light dissipated into tiny particles until those were eaten by the air.

Marcus tested his hands, balling them into fists and releasing them, turned his wrists and flexed the tendons in his arms, rolled his wounded shoulder without a twinge of pain. He looked up to find Dagger watching him.

"Thank you," he said, getting to his feet, trying his balance and pleased to find it intact. "I've never seen something like that done before." He didn't try to keep the mild awe from his words.

Leaning past the light blush rising on her face to where the black mage lie motionless on the ground, Marcus ran his fingers over the hilt of his sword, still imbedded, still warm to the touch. Once he got to Treno, he would have to pay a visit to the weapons shop to get the edge sharpened. He would do what he could on the road, but there was only so much he could do with a small whetstone. It would especially need tending after this battle. He tugged on it to pull the blade free and winced at the harsh scrape of metal against metal, but his effort yielded no success.

Muttering a soft curse, he tugged harder, to no better avail. It finally took bracing a boot against the mage's torso and yanking back to free it, small friction sparks leaping from the edge as he did so.

"Damn!" he said, catching his balance again nimbly, a step back from the mage.

Lowering the falcata in front of himself and resting the flat of it against his palm, he inspected the damage done. All along the length of the blade, thin fingers of black burn marks stretched, mirroring the scars on his arms minutes ago. After fruitlessly attempting to wipe the black off, and hoping the integrity of the steel wasn't compromised by the damage, Marcus had no choice but to simply sheath it.

Turning his attention back to the wreck that once was an intimidating black mage, Dagger came to her feet beside him, and Steiner to stand on his other side.

"Why...?" Dagger breathed, shaking her head. "Why...? What did it want with me?"

Steiner shifted and put his heavy gauntlet tenderly on her shoulder. "Princess..."

Never taking his eyes from the mechanical remains, his voice heavy and rough as gravel, Marcus said, "Burmecia was attacked by an army of black mage soldiers."

A gust of wind whistled through the pass in the cleft of silence his words left.

Then, with quiet resignation, Dagger said, "... I know."

Memories of plays performed in Burmecia's sweeping, gracefully-roofed amphitheater simply for the sake of performing, with no other motive backing them filled him. The vibrant beauty of all the house gardens and pools kept verdant and so very alive in all the rain always made Marcus defend the kingdom to anyone who sighed and named it _dreary_. His lungs drew in a deeper breath with no forethought, a hot anger rising from his belly.

"Those mages," he growled, "wiped out the people of Burmecia..." So many people who had come to him after a play, bringing a gift box of vegetables grown in their water gardens, or a handful of reed flowers, carefully made preserves, a kind word when they had nothing else to offer. So many kids he had seen pretending to be the characters from the plays Tantalus brought them, running through the cobbled streets and over low stone walls.

As Dagger remained silent, his hand clenched into a fist by his side. He wanted to smash was was left of this thrice-damned black mage until his knuckles were raw and bleeding.

Steiner's words cut through the air around them. "Who would do such a thing?"

A tight cord in Marcus threatened to snap, and he rounded his anger toward the knight, wolfteeth bared. "Are you serious? How ignorant can you be?"

Caught off-guard by the sudden fury facing him, Steiner's eyes widened and he took an involuntary step back. "What do you mean?"

Ready to snarl a venomous response, Marcus was stopped by Dagger's hand on his chest. She didn't press against him, but the gentle weight of her hand halted him in his tracks regardless.

"Stop it, Steiner..." She looked at neither of them, amber eyes focused instead through the rising smoke from the black mage. "I know who did it."

Steiner seemed no less surprised by her quiet words than by Marcus's angry outburst. "Princess?" The honorific was nearly a whisper.

His heart thudded beneath her hand so loudly, he was sure she could feel it before she drew her hand back. "We're almost in Alexandria," she said, curling her hand into herself and ignoring both of them. "I must go to the castle and see my mother. She'll listen to me."


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter Two

He didn't look at her when she slid into the seat across from him, keeping his eyes and his mind fixed out the window. The tram was silent save for the steady clacking of the thick cable drawing the car along its tracks through the mountains.

"I think we're almost there," she said, quiet.

The words came out of his mouth before he could stop them. "So, you already knew about the attack on Burmecia." Marcus wasn't sure if he wanted it to be more of a question, a confirmation, or an accusation. He didn't know what good any of those things could do, but the boiling in his heart needed him to say something.

"I heard about it, yes, of course," she replied; he could hear the softening around her words, and it both cracked his heart more and lent more heat to his anger. "I'm not like Steiner."

It started as almost inaudible hitches in his breath until it built and eventually coalesced into quiet, bitter chuckling. No, she wasn't much like Steiner, and yet somehow she still was.

The confused, slightly worried look slanted across her face was one he expected when he dragged his eyes to her from the window.

"You're changed," was all he said.

She was taken aback by his statement and looked down at her lap and hands as if something were amiss, before looking back up at him, her brow knit. "Me? You mean the way I look?" He couldn't tell if she were complimented or offended.

"Not just that," he replied after a moment, and she relaxed.

A small, sad smile slowly curved her mouth and her lashes lowered. "Well... a lot has happened."

Enough memories from the past month and a half to write a five-act play from ran through his mind, and he imagined Dagger felt similarly from their mirrored silences. She was the one to break it again.

"Oh, speaking of which...?" She lifted her eyes to his.

"Yeah?"

"I've been through my fair share of battles."

She left the end hang off her statement, and he knew he followed where she meant to lead him, but wasn't certain he cared for the direction. "Yeah, I saw that myself. What's your point?"

"We still need to find the supersoft and save Blank, right?"

Marcus didn't answer right away—she knew he had to do this, and was going to insert herself into his business regardless of anything else. He honestly didn't want her to get more tangled up than she already was in this mess, but the set of her jaw and the light in her eyes told him clear as any words that it didn't matter what he wanted.

"You're going to come along even if I refuse, right?" Only years of acting kept the resignation from his tone.

For a split instant, he could have sworn his breath stopped when her face brightened and she smiled. Marcus wouldn't ever say it was like the sun coming from behind the clouds or anything remotely poetic, but there was a noticeable weight that lifted off her as she realized he wouldn't turn her away. She felt responsible for what happened to Blank, he already knew, but the vein of guilt must have run much deeper than Marcus had thought for her reaction to be so significant.

"Of course I am," she told him, and he couldn't muster it in him to be upset at the fact that a good portion of her reason for helping was to alleviate her own guilt.

_It really wasn't your fault_, he found himself wanting to say. He could almost taste the words on his tongue, and scraped his wolfteeth against their scars to quell the urge. She had come willingly, he reminded himself, even slid effortlessly into their play with none the wiser, and was as much at fault as the rest of them when their ruse was found out.

Marcus leaned forward, resting one elbow on his thigh. "Will your knight captain insist on helping as well?"

Dagger slid a look over to Steiner, who seemed less vehement about keeping an eye on Marcus than before their battle with the black mage and had cast his attention out the window nearest instead. Her answer was just above a hushed breath.

"He will want to go where I do. It... he has made it his duty to protect me, despite my reassurances that I don't need it." A shallow crease drew along her brow before she looked back at Marcus. "That I don't want him to put himself into unnecessary danger because of me."

A wry smile twisted his mouth and he shook his head. "Have you ever read any old plays? I mean the ones with speech so archaic they aren't performed anymore?"

Confused, Dagger studied him. "Yes," she answered slowly. "I've read a few."

"Then you should already know the princess always has some guard, someone laying down their life for her if need be. He's a knight," Marcus went on as the root of her nose scrunched just slightly in curious appreciation as he spoke. "He will always want to protect something."

Her amber gaze held him as she considered his words. "And what about you?"

"I'm not a knight."

"You don't have anything you want to protect?" He watched her face, the way just one eyebrow shifted, the smallest tilt of her head to the opposite side. Marcus sat back upright in his seat, the memories of Burmecia and all those he'd watched over in Tantalus through the years filling his mind. Of Blank knowing full well that running after Zidane and helping her might have ended in his death. Out of all of Tantalus, Blank could have been a knight if he had wanted.

Her soft voice reminded him of the present moment she was now in with him. "I don't think a person has to be a knight to want to protect someone or something."

"No," he agreed, and the hush of his tone surprised him. "You don't."

Silence settled between them for a while after that, and he was content to leave her to her thoughts, his own drifting to his task at hand and Blank. He felt they'd taken too long—too long for him and Baku to find out about the supersoft, too long to pinpoint possible locations of the potion, too long to get to where he needed to be. Blank had been petrified for well over two months, and nobody had any idea what the long-term effects of that were. Marcus frowned out the window. And it'd be even longer until he got back to the forest to find his fellow after he acquired the supersoft. If it really was in Treno at all.

A small breath escaped him quietly, and he closed his eyes for that space. _Hang on, brother. I'm coming as fast as I can_.

When he opened his eyes again, out of his peripheral he saw Dagger watching him soundlessly, and she did not break the air with any words even after their eyes met. Maybe it would be good to have her along after all, he suddenly realized, remembering the cool green touch of her hands when she had healed him. She already wanted to accompany him to assuage her conscience; he should take advantage of that opportunity to make sure Blank was okay.

Once she crept back into his thoughts, his attention alternated from out the window to her, questions taking form and rooting in his mind, though he held his tongue for now. When Baku had announced they were going to kidnap the princess of Alexandria with no other explanation, Marcus knew something large was brewing behind the stage. The markers that he could see didn't make sense for them to have been hired by some plotting noble, and kidnapping was never Tantalus' style. In the midst of trying to translate the parts of the set Baku wasn't telling them about, he couldn't say he was even surprised to learn later that the princess had wanted to go with them all along—not after the way she had slipped into his arms as Cornelia in front of a host of nobles that included her mother.

She glanced back his way from the window opposite their seats and caught him looking at her. Steeling himself for accusations or questions, her sudden bright smile surprised him.

"In a way, I'm glad for this detour," she said, then added at the confused tilt of his head, "I've always wanted to see the marvelous architecture of Treno."

The corner of his mouth twitched up for a half-moment and he snorted softly. "Yeah," he said because he had to say something in response. "It's certainly that."

The rest of the cable car trip was quiet; his answer seemed to content her enough not to warrant any other conversation, and he was fine with that. It was only another hour or so to the Aerbs Alexandria Station, and he spent it with his eyes out the window again. After a little while, he stopped tracking the time and simply watched the scrolling mountainside. South Gate loomed behind the car, and if he twisted just so he could see the damages done to the giant structure by the airship crash he'd heard about. Now that they were well past the Gate, the countryside splayed out in either direction below them during the slight descent from the top of the peak South Gate was built over. It was the lowest summit on the southern ridge of the range, and even so it had been a hefty undertaking to build both the Berkmea cable cars, their tracks and mechanisms, and later, South Gate itself towering over the cable car tracks like a colossus. He leaned closer to the window to watch as the edges of a small forest at the feet of the Aerbs gave way to a small expanse of grass before meeting the sea so far below them. It wasn't long before the station came into view, the thick cable clicking louder and heralding the car's return to its massive winch.

Absently, he ran a rough thumb under his baldric, the underside of it smoothed from years of use and worrying. It was comforting, the warm, worn feel of his leather. He hoped the supersoft was in Treno and he could stop chasing fruitless leads and finally do something to help Blank.

The cable car slowed and came to a halt, mist fulminating from vents in the large winch housed in the half-exposed mechanism room as the conductor eased the tram into place at the station. Marcus stood, alongside Dagger, and they made their way after Steiner out of the car.

"Take care," the conductor said as they passed him. " The road splits up ahead; go right to reach Treno, and left to reach Dali."

Dagger thanked him as she stepped down with care onto the platform, followed closely by Marcus.

"Do you know the way to Treno?" he asked her as they caught up with Steiner down the stairs leading out of the station.

She gave him a somewhat sheepish glance from over her shoulder. "Right at the split," she echoed. He shook his head.

"It is good you're tagging along with me," he groused, "if that's your sense of direction."

A soft laugh left her, getting Steiner's attention enough for him to give Marcus a wary look as if he'd done something wrong. Marcus briefly flashed a grin that showed his wolfteeth.

"Time enough to get moving," he said, shouldering past the knight toward the exit archway.

Dagger and Steiner lingered a moment inside the station and shared a few low words he didn't quite catch—and didn't try to—before following him. A short walk down another set of stairs, roughly hewn compared to the clean cut ones inside, led them down to an open courtyard where the midday sun gave a warmth to even the old cobblestone path before them.

"It looks so disused," Dagger noted with a touch of dismay hidden beneath the words, her strides bringing her in tandem for a moment with Marcus' longer ones. He nodded.

"The footpaths and cable cars aren't used much anymore, since airship travel is easier to come by. But it looked like some damage was done to South Gate as we passed it," he noted, acting as if his attention was on a moss-covered statue up ahead to hide his oblique observance of their reactions. "Perhaps the footpaths will see more traffic until it's repaired."

Dagger exchanged a quick glance with Steiner that confirmed his niggling suspicious that they'd somehow been involved with the South Gate incident. Before he parted ways, he'd overheard Baku and one of his various informants discussing some very curious topics regarding the princess, and South Gate had been one of them. The silent looks that passed between her and her knight seemed to fit the bill as proof enough to Marcus.

Walking ahead, Dagger reached the statue first, her hand trailing over the moss as she rounded it to read the plaque on the front.

" 'To Dali'," she read as he and Steiner stopped on either side of her. " 'Do not vandalize the farm'. I guess they have trouble with that."

"It seemed too small a farm to do much vandalizing," Steiner remarked blandly.

"You've been to Dali?" A quick tilt brought his head angled sharply toward her, eyes following Dagger's hands on the statue, absently roaming.

"After we escaped the Evil Forest," she answered, reserved, "we ended up in Dali. It seemed such a small, quiet town..."

A small wrinkle of pain creased across her brow, an ember of anger catching in the amber light of her eyes, both fading almost as quickly as they had formed though they did not escape his notice.

"Princess," Steiner said, a note away from reproach, stepping between his ward and Marcus. Beneath his bandana, his brow knit. What had happened there? He let yet another question take root with the others in the back of his throat; patience had always been one of his virtues, and he was content to let the story of that missing act play out as it would in its own time.

To break the heaviness settled on them, he meandered over, past the opposite plaque so old now it was devoid of a statue to hold it, to a large bronzed placard next to a bubbling well with a broken wood rail that once boxed it in.

" 'No amount of hardship can tear our two countries apart'." As soon as he spoke, the rumble of his voice seemed too loud for this quiet moment held in the sunlight. But that was what he wanted, this time.

"Cid VIII." Dagger's voice came from close behind him, and he looked to find her at his side. "He's the one that built the Berkmea cable cars."

"And developed the first mist engine." Hearing the ease back in her voice, a spool slowly unwound in him, one he hadn't known was so tight after seeing the hurt on her face a few minutes before.

Behind them, Steiner cleared his throat. "As nice a repose as this is, shouldn't we be moving on?" Marcus took note of the veiled glare in his direction.

"Right," Dagger agreed. "On to Treno." She led them past the broken statue designating the path toward the city, casting only a shadow of a glance back to the opposite road where Dali lay.

The cobblestone path gave way to a dirt one, heavily grooved and tamped by years of traveler's boots. Around a sharp corner the path was cleft by a relatively short but deep crevice, connected to itself on the other side only by an old, decrepit bridge.

"I am not sure I trust that," Steiner complained as they all stood at one end. "Are there no other ways across?"

"Not unless you've recently acquired the ability to fly," Marcus replied, and was unmoved by the scathing look he received in return.

"I think it'll support our weight," Dagger interjected, inspecting the bridge. "From here at least, it looks like just the top planks are broken, but the supports are all still intact."

"We hope," Marcus couldn't help but add with just enough of a touch of dark undertone to be ominous, coupled with a sidelong look as flat as a stone wall to Steiner over his shoulder. It was worth it to see the Pluto captain's face pale a shade.

"Marcus," Dagger said abruptly, a scold sharpening her tone, though with a thread of amusement. "Don't tease him."

The red that crawled up Steiner's neck immediately was probably both anger and embarrassment, Marcus decided with a wicked smile. "Why, you scoundrel—" The knight started toward him.

"_Gentlemen_." Dagger put herself between them, hands level with their chests. "Let's fight after we get on the way past the gate, okay?"

"... As you would, Princess. But he is swiftly becoming insufferable." Steiner backed down, but Marcus could only grin.

"Too bad I'm also incredibly useful," he drawled, arms folding loose over his chest.

The knight grunted. "We shall see." Turning his back to the Tantalus performer, Steiner gave the bridge his undivided attention. "First, crossing to the other side." Steeling himself with a loud breath drawn in his nose, Steiner nodded to his ward and let out a short cry as he sprinted across the old wood, leaping over the crumbling gap in the walkway planks to land heavily on the other side, sending a frightening shudder through the rest of the structure. Dagger winced and even Marcus clenched his teeth.

"Well, it would probably support our weight unless somebody jumped on it wearing plate," amended Marcus dryly, but as they watched, Steiner kept his balance on the groaning bridge—which held despite all abuses—and made it across to the other side.

He faced them, triumphant, relief etched plainly over his face. "Best to just get it done and over with," he advised them, the bright quip in his voice one of someone who'd just danced a hair's breadth out of reach of death's blade.

"First sensible thing you've said yet," Marcus agreed and without any other preamble, quickly made his way over the bridge in a narrow, straight line until he reached the gap. Not slowing to think too much about how he should clear it, his leap took him clear of danger, but landed him much closer to the broken edge, however more nimbly than Steiner. The bridge shuddered again under the heavy impact of his boots.

Without moving off the bridge, he edged away from the gap, spinning slowly to preserve his footing and face Dagger. "Need help?"

She made her way out to the break on light feet, craning her neck to peer at it from a shorter distance. Eyebrows arched up, she considered. "I can make it."

He nodded and slid his stance backward to give her room, though he remained on the bridge itself.

Backing up a few paces, Dagger broke into a jog to provide momentum enough to breach the gap. As she landed, the old wood decided that was the final strain it wanted to take on its still-intact joists and the top plank beneath her boots cracked along the grain with a quick-reaching sliver and a sharp gasp whisking away the breath from her lungs.

Marcus moved instantly almost as soon as her hands flew up to try and catch herself, Steiner calling out in dismay somewhere behind him. Strong hands flashed out to grab her before she pitched off the side, his fingers enclosing around her shoulders even as her hands found purchase around his forearms and he pulled her up with brute strength, mid-fall. Her direction altered so suddenly, she collided into him solidly, forcing both a grunt and a step back to steady them both.

Steiner shouted again, but Marcus wasn't paying attention to what it was. His heart thudded against his ribs and Dagger looked up at him.

"You okay?" he asked, and received a wordless nod in return before she found her voice again.

"Thank you," she said and straightened without a tremor running its course through her.

There was the echo of a quiet roar somewhere in the back of his hearing, and he hesitated a breath before saying anything more.

"Princess!" Steiner repeated loudly, and Marcus swallowed down whatever words might have escaped. "Unhand her this instant and get off that damned forsaken excuse of a bridge!"

All at once acutely aware of his hands still on her, her fingers still resting on his arms, he backed away. Marcus turned and strode off the rest of the bridge, Dagger at his heels. As soon as her feet touched solid ground again, Steiner shoved past Marcus to get to her.

"Are you all right?" His face was a knot of worry, his hands raised as if he anticipated he'd need to carry her after such an ordeal.

She nodded her head. "I'm fine, thank you. Just a little slip is all." Frowning and ignoring Steiner trying to protest her offhandedness of what had happened, she cast a look back to the bridge. "I feel bad just leaving without fixing the gap. Other people need to come this way, as well."

"There's not much we can do," Marcus began.

"She's right," Steiner interrupted. "It is a treacherous path, and it must be mended." Tapping a fist into his opposite palm, the knight sent Marcus a disparaging look. "If our brigand companion can find the time to spare."

Corners of his mouth turning down, Marcus felt the smoke of anger rise in his throat before he could push it away. "Do you have time to find a suitable tree to make a new plank from and the tools to secure it to the others that wouldn't give a false sense of security only to slip anyway under the wrong angle of a step? Because I don't have any of those things." He hadn't meant to allow that much venom lash out in his words, but something about the knight's tone and look—no, it wasn't Steiner's fault, Marcus grudgingly admitted. It was the frustration of agreement to every word and sentiment, of wanting to do more but not being able to, of watching it nearly happen to Dagger.

Tacitly, Dagger asked, "Well, what can we do, if not that? There must be something."

Marcus shook his head, more to clear it than anything else. "Tell the Gate guards once we get there. The station should have repair crews, or maybe the gatehouse does. It's their job to maintain the footpaths, after all."

She fell silent for a few breaths, eyes on the ground, considering his words. Finally, she nodded. "That's what we'll do, then. Come on."

The path they followed wound gently along a shallow dirt groove that was rimmed with stones, though many of them seemed to missing by the alignment of those that remained. Scraggly trees and bushes clung to the rocks and hard clay earth, but it was by no means an unpleasant walk. They'd arrived at the cable car station just after midday, and the sun had taken the time to warm the thinner air here at least somewhat. After a little while, they descended down a mild slope, and the Gate came into view. It lay at the foot of the small decline, a green sea of plains stretched out behind it into the distance, with the mountains rising up to the north.

"There's the Gate," Dagger said, he supposed more for something to break the silence than that there was a chance any of them might have missed it. She trotted ahead of the two flanking her, her step lighter now that a destination was in sight.

"Eager to help," Marcus remarked.

"The princess has always been so," came Steiner's unanticipated, brusque reply. "If she is to be loved by her people one day, it is a good thing to be."

Marcus ignored the chilly tone behind his words. "Or a dangerous one, if she stays as trusting."

"If you plan anything devious—"

"Take it easy. I don't have anything up my sleeve. I was just making conversation." Marcus picked up his pace a touch to break stride with the knight, following more closely the dark swinging hair of the girl in front of them.

It did not take long to reach the bottom where the cobblestones met them again. When Steiner and Marcus closed the gap between them and Dagger, she went up to the guard standing by the raised gate.

"Good afternoon," she called out politely, receiving a nod from the guard in return. "We're headed to Treno, but you need to know the bridge up this hill has a rather large hole in it. It needs immediate repair or somebody might fall through."

The guard exchanged a look back to his fellow in the house. "We'll notify the station crew, thank you. There haven't been many people who come this way to let us know about things like that." He eyed Marcus and Steiner. "You said you were headed to Treno? That's only a short distance from here. Sightseeing?"

Steiner was about to open his mouth—for his foot, most likely, thought Marcus—when Dagger chimed in brightly. "Oh, yes! I've always wanted to see its architecture, you know. You hear so many wonderful things about it."

He words were so sincere, her voice smooth as an uninterrupted stream, that Marcus had to stop himself from giving her an appreciative smile. It was certainly more than good enough for the guard to take at face value.

"Well, you should be careful on the way. We haven't had much help in patrolling the area lately, so there might be dangerous creatures about. But," he went on, "you seem like you should be fine. Now all I need to see is your Gate Pass." The guard waited as Dagger fished into one of her pouches for the slip of paper to hand him. Once procured, he scanned it. "Everything looks to be in order." After returning it to her, he pivoted to look back at his fellow inside the gatehouse. "Hey, will you lower the gate for these folks?"

The other guard said something that was muffled through the narrow window, but soon the heavy dragging of thick chains and metal winches grinding into motion heralded the slow, steady sinking of the Gate into its worn grooves in the ground.

"Be careful out there," the guard warned them again after the Gate was lowered.

"Thanks—we will." Dagger lifted a hand in farewell to him as they exited through the opening.

Once they were clear of the Gate, the guards raised it back up, ending with an echoing clang as the portcullis locked back into place. Dagger glanced back at it as Marcus squinted up at the sky.

"Maybe three more hours of light before we should make camp for the night," he estimated, lowering his gaze to Steiner. "Tell me you've got supplies for a while?"

The Pluto knight captain chewed on the inside of his cheek in thought. "A few days is what we accounted for. Not," he added hastily, "including you."

Marcus waved a dismissive hand. "I've got my own. I meant for the two of you. If you've got a few days, it should be fine." If they could make it to the halfway point, he wouldn't need to worry about foraging for food for them, or stretching his modest rations.

They all fell into a rhythm behind Dagger, who headed along a path through the plains grasses, though this one was much less worn and more lightly tamped than the footpath from the station to the Gate. The wind kept a steady breeze rifling through their clothing and hair, and brought the smell of the sea to Marcus. He allowed himself a brief moment to close his eyes and breathe deep, the hint of crisp tang of salt on the air comforting. The wind passed and he opened his eyes again to watch Dagger for a while.

"That was some good improvising back there," he said.

"Is that a compliment I hear?" Her tone was teasing and drew a short laugh from his chest.

"You could take it as one, yes. Bit of an improvement from the last time, too."

Mocking mortification, Dagger spun around and walked backwards to watch him. "Considering that was my first public performance, I should think I did rather well last time."

He couldn't resist grinning—a rakish thing that split his face just so. "Keep practicing and maybe one day you really could act alongside me."

Laughing in earnest, she whirled forward again and left Marcus to wonder if everyone who heard her felt a warmth spreading through them at the sound.

The next few hours spent walking under the sun, with the clean air of the mountains filling his lungs, he was almost able to forget for a time the sobering quest that lay before him once they arrived to Treno. Even Steiner was not as dour toward him, and spoke amicably of swordplay and the history of the mountains with Dagger. Marking the sun's path toward the edge of the horizon, Marcus scouted around ahead of the two of them for a likely camping spot. There was no real cover, though the grasses grew taller the further along they went. He knew at some point the path vanished entirely out of disuse and a lack of patrols to maintain its presence between the Gate all the way to Treno, but figured they had another day or so before they lost its guidance.

Halting on a small rise out of the mostly flat plateau top, Marcus fingered into an old leather map canister for a rough, hand-drawn one of the southern Aerbs. Holding it more or less open against the wind, he traced their path from the Gate along the curve of the plateau to where he was fairly certain they were, alternating deciphering the little marks on the map and scanning to find them around him.

"What's that?" Dagger asked from his elbow, peering up at the rough parchment in his hands.

"Hopefully something that will help us find the best place to—ah, there. Camp." Rolling it back up deftly, he slipped the map back into its canister and screwed the top back on, eyes fixed on a dark spot a little ways ahead of them. "See that?" He pointed to it and she followed the length of his arm with her gaze. "That should be a little stone ridge we can shelter from the wind for a night. It's got a nice corner to it that makes it decently defensible in a bind, too."

He strode down off the rise and she waved Steiner over as Marcus led them toward the ridge. It faced northeast, and so the late afternoon sun had already cast it in shadow. By the time they reached it, the sun was sunk below the horizon of the plateau, though not yet beneath the curve of the world.

"Most of the wind comes off the ocean to the south," Marcus explained as Steiner eyed the shadowy ridge. "So we can have a fire without worrying that it'll get picked up and set the whole plains aflame."

He busied himself with digging a shallow pit within the hollow nook the jutting rocks of the ridge formed, Steiner worked on assembling his and Dagger's tents for the evening on one side of the ridge, and Dagger set about gathering the largest grass stems she could find in the dying light. She'd collected more than a few handfuls that he estimated would give them a decent enough fire by the time Marcus' pit was ready, and he struck flint over a pile of dried stems until they caught the spark. He left Steiner to tend the fire while he pitched his own simple tent, opposite theirs. Once that was secured and the fire stoked and managed, they enjoyed a welcome supper to the quiet crackling of the flames and the evening song of the winds. He couldn't think of much to say that evening, and neither Steiner nor Dagger were forthcoming with conversation while they ate. She sat for a while, pensive, resting back on her arms and watching the stars come out of the darkening sky, but it wasn't too long before Dagger excused herself to ready for sleep, and vanished into her tent for the night. Steiner stood by the edge of their small encampment for a while, watching the moon rise, before turning back to Marcus, who was spending the time sharpening his blackened falcata.

"Perhaps you do have some redeeming qualities, rogue," the knight said to him, with a curt nod. Marcus ran his whetstone along the blade's edge and nodded in return.

"You might, too."


End file.
